


Doubt That the Sun Doth Move

by wingedspirit



Series: Winter 2019 Prompts [25]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 31 Days of Ineffables Advent Calendar Challenge (Good Omens), 31 Days of Ineffables Advent Calendar Challenge 2019 (Good Omens), Canon-Typical Angst, Character Study, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-30
Updated: 2019-12-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 16:21:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22039993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wingedspirit/pseuds/wingedspirit
Summary: A history of love.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Winter 2019 Prompts [25]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1560823
Comments: 12
Kudos: 106





	Doubt That the Sun Doth Move

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [drawlight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/drawlight)’s [advent calendar prompt list](https://drawlight.tumblr.com/post/188869931294/aziraphale-crowley-for-half-an-hour-youve-been) (day 25, love).

Angels learn to love at God’s knee. She made them; She loves them; and so they love Her back, with all that they are. There is no doubt.

And then there is.

The Fall is a lesson; but not all angels learn the same thing.

Some start thinking at length how they are the good ones, those truly worthy of God’s love, those who didn’t betray Her; and learn pride.

Some believe the Fall was too lenient a punishment, and those who betrayed God should have been destroyed entirely; and learn wrath.

Some mourn for the Fallen, those who were once their friends, their loved ones; and learn sorrow, and loss.

And some look at all the empty seats in the assemblies, and remember how they watched angels Fall who were not, really, all that different from them; and realise how all they have, all they _are_ may be ripped away from them at any moment, at the slightest provocation or even without one at all.

And they learn fear.

⁂

There is no love in Hell. There couldn’t be. All love comes from God, after all, and they’ve been ripped away from Her.

Instead, they hate. They hate God, and they hate their former brethren, for having what they no longer do; they hate everything they used to be, for it is easier to do so than to feel its loss; they hate each other; and above all, they hate themselves.

Crawley looks at the low, damp ceilings of Hell, and thinks of his stars, and decides the best thing he could do for himself is get the fuck out of there as soon as he can.

⁂

“If you see a demon,” Aziraphale is told, as he is given his sword and his duty, “just smite them. They are only monsters now, broken and hateful. If anything, you’ll be doing them a kindness.”

⁂

“If you see an angel,” Crawley is told, as he is given his very first orders, “either you take them by surprise with hellfire, or you run like fuck. We’re not wasting a weapon on the likes of you, you wouldn’t even know which end is which anyway.”

⁂

There is love in the Garden, of a kind Aziraphale has never before seen. It’s not the blinding, all-consuming love of Heaven; it’s an earthly love, between Adam and Eve, and from them to the plants and creatures that surround them.

When it all goes pear-shaped, all he can feel is a desperate need to preserve that love; and so he does the unthinkable, and gives his sword away.

⁂

There is love in the Garden, Crowley discovers to his shock. Not the distant memory of God’s love, but something more immediate, reachable, from the humans for all the life around them, as well as between the two of them.

And even for him.

Eve looks at him, and smiles, and for a too-brief moment, it’s like he never got lost.

It’s an illusion, of course. One he has to shatter.

⁂

The demon is quite strange, and not at all what Aziraphale has come to expect from his previous, though admittedly brief, interactions with other demons. He hasn’t screamed and run away, nor has he tried to fling hellfire at him and gotten smitten for his troubles. Instead, he’s simply engaged him in mostly-polite conversation. There doesn’t seem to be anything wrong, or off, in him — other than the obvious, anyway.

Still, best not to encourage him or his questions too much.

⁂

The angel is bloody weird. No shouting, no smiting, only relatively polite conversation. And what kind of angel just gives his sword away, anyway? Not that Crawley minds it being gone, at least this way he stands half a chance of surviving if the angel decides he’s smiting-inclined, after all, but it’s still _really bloody weird_.

And then it starts raining, and the angel just stands there and gets drenched, but covers _him_ with a wing.

Just. _What?_

⁂

_Well_ , Aziraphale thinks, watching the demon walk away from the Garden and fighting back the urge to run after him. _Like as not, I’ll never see him again._

He refuses to consider the pang of loneliness that strikes him at the thought. He’s an angel. God’s love is all he needs to sustain him.

⁂

_Well_ , Crawley thinks, walking away from the Garden and very resolutely not looking back. _Odds are, I’ll never see him again._

He tells himself there is nothing uncomfortable about that thought. He’s a demon. He doesn’t need anybody, especially not an angel.

⁂

The longer Aziraphale stays on Earth, the more he loves.

He knows it should unsettle him; he is not, after all, meant for this.

Only, there is so much to love here. The humans, of course, in all their cleverness; and food and drink; and an infinite variety of stories, of knowledge, told by one person or by many, spoken or written down, in prose or in verse.

And even —

No. That would be going too far.

⁂

The longer Crowley stays on Earth, the more he rediscovers love.

It should unsettle him; he knows, after all, that he should have lost the capacity.

And yet, there is so much to love here. The humans, certainly, so bright and clever; and music, and the arts; and an enormous wealth of knowledge, of stories, passed on from person to person or written down, in verse or in prose, known to all or to just a few.

And, of course —

No. That is not for the likes of him anymore.

⁂

It’s not that Aziraphale loves Crowley. Really, that’s entirely preposterous. It’s just — they’re friends. Just friends. He cares for the demon — alright, loves the demon — in a friendly manner. That’s normal. He’s an angel. He loves lots of things.

⁂

Of course Crowley doesn’t love Aziraphale. That’s stupid. They’re friends. Just friends. Barely a step up from — from casual inimical acquaintainceship, or whatever you call what they used to have. He’s a demon. The fact that he loves anything at all is terrifying enough.

⁂

Oh. Oh, dear.

Alright, so he’s in love with Crowley. Rather a lot beyond the angelic kind of love, and a fair bit beyond the friendly kind, too.

It’s alright. They’re friends, and they’ll remain friends and nothing more. After all, Crowley is a demon. The fact that he’s capable of love at all is a marvel; romantic love is, surely, beyond his capabilities, especially for someone as boring and foolish as Aziraphale.

It’s fine.

⁂

Oh. Oh, fuck.

So he’s in love with Aziraphale. Just his luck. Clearly whoever decided on ‘no love for demons’ missed the mark by rather a large margin.

He’ll just deal with it. They’re friends and that’s what they’ll stay, forever. After all, Aziraphale is an angel. Sure, an atypical angel by any sort of measurement, but even the strangest angel would not love a demon that way. It’s simply impossible.

It’s fine.

⁂

His books.

Crowley’s just saved his books.

But why would he — oh.

_Oh._

⁂

Too fast, Aziraphale said.

That — that’s not a no.

But — oh.

_Oh._

⁂

He loves Crowley, and Crowley loves him.

And the world is ending, and they are running out of time.

He knows what he needs to do; and he knows, he _knows_ it’ll hurt Crowley. But this way, the world will be safe, and — and they will, as well.

He has to believe that. He has to believe in Heaven’s love, one last time.

⁂

He loves Aziraphale, and Aziraphale loves him.

Or. Well. Loved. Aziraphale is gone, now.

The world is ending, and they’ve run out of time.

He wishes the Fall had taken love entirely out of him, now. He wishes he’d never believed in love to start with.

⁂

He has no body, no idea how the Heaven-to-Earth transportation system works, and very little hope.

But —

Love can be your greatest strength, he was told once; and while he no longer believes in Heaven’s version of love, what hope he has is, still, founded on love, and he believes it will be enough.

_Take me to Crowley_ , he thinks, and lets love guide his way.

⁂

He is not strong enough, he never has been; and Satan is coming.

But —

Love can be your greatest strength. Just another stupid Heavenly platitude, he’d thought, and anyway not really applicable to a demon; but with all that he is, he loves, and with all that he is, he believes.

He’s only just gotten Aziraphale back, and he will be damned — really, truly damned — if he lets him go again.

With all of his belief, he reaches for what remains of his power, and pulls.

⁂

There is no love in Hell, at least not that he can see; and honestly, it does surprise him a little. Crowley is, doubtlessly, special, but he’d not have thought he would be that much of a rarity. Perhaps the rest of the Fallen have just learned to hide it well.

Either way, it does not matter. He’s here for Crowley, to _be_ Crowley for a little while and, hopefully, to intimidate Hell enough that he will be safe; and he will give it his all, so they can finally, finally be free to love.

⁂

There is no love in Heaven, at least not that he can see; and really, he doesn’t know why he’s surprised. He’d always known Aziraphale was special, but Heaven touted love as their defining characteristic entirely too much. Perhaps it’s just that it’s only three of the four assholes-in-chief who are here, and other angels would be different.

It doesn’t matter, anyway. He’s here for Aziraphale, to _be_ Aziraphale for a short time and, he hopes, to terrify Heaven enough that they will not dare touch him, ever again; and he will give it his all, so they can, at long bloody last, have the freedom to love.

⁂

There is love on Earth, and that is where they belong. They are safe.

There is love in their hearts, finally embraced after millennia of thinking it was not something they would get to have, of fearing it would be ripped away from them.

There is love in their hearts, and that is where it belongs. Where it always has been.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Hamlet. ( _Doubt thou the stars are fire, doubt that the sun doth move, doubt truth to be a liar, but never doubt I love._ )
> 
> You can, should you wish to, find me on [Tumblr](https://wingedspirit.tumblr.com/).


End file.
